


virescit vulnere virtus

by merrymegtargaryen



Category: The Spanish Princess (TV)
Genre: 2x05 AU, F/M, Scottish Accents, mostly canon compliant with the smallest tweak, now continued, shameless self indulgence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27500203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrymegtargaryen/pseuds/merrymegtargaryen
Summary: A slight tweak on 2x05: The Plague. What if Alexander Stewart had been there? And what if he didn't hate Meg as much as she thought?Updated to fix the disaster that was 2x06. Looks like ignoring canon is back on the menu, boys.
Relationships: Margaret Tudor/Alexander Stewart
Comments: 11
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itslaurenmae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itslaurenmae/gifts).



> Listen, I just really love Meg and Alexander Stewart, and even though I know it's not going to happen, I really want them to make out. So here's a fic where they do that.
> 
> I'm sorry about the Scottish accents. I tried not to go overboard but I also couldn't...NOT write Scottish accents??
> 
> This is a one shot unless the next episode gives me something to work with...haha jk...unless...
> 
> Thank you as always to itslaurenmae, without whom this fic would not be posted <3

The Duke of Albany, Meg discovers, is not a bad man at all.

She had expected him to be as loathsome as his younger brother, as crude and rough around the edges, but she finds instead a refined man of good taste. He finds suitable clothing for her, and at a sumptuous private dinner, he serves the best wine she’s ever sampled, imported all the way from France.

“You spent a great deal of time there, didn’t you?” she asks, warming to her host. 

“Most of my life. I was born there to a French mother; my father died when I was an infant, so I was raised in France. I visited my cousin from time to time, but in truth, I have always preferred France to Scotland. Have you ever been to France, Your Grace?”

“I have not,” she admits. “I had always wanted to visit, of course, but the time was never right.”

“Perhaps now that your sister is queen there, the opportunity may arise.”

“You saw her when you were there, I presume?”

“I did,” he says pleasantly. “She was most charming.”

Meg hesitates. She knows that Louis is an old man, and Mary was but a child when Meg left for Scotland. She has not seen her sister in years, but she cannot imagine that any woman would be happy married to an old man, even if he is king. “How...was she?”

The duke’s tone softens. “She was...well, Your Grace.”

“You hesitate.”

“In truth, I do not think she was wholly satisfied with her marriage,” he admits. “Her husband is...quite a bit older than her. But there are worse places to endure an old husband than the French court; she was always attired in the latest fashion, and there was a great deal of entertainment to keep her occupied.”

“Well, that is something, I suppose.”

“Were you close to your sister?”

“In truth, no,” Meg admits. “I was thirteen when I left for Scotland, and she was only six. I--”

She is interrupted, because at that moment, the door to the dining room swings open, and through it strides the last person she wants to see.

Alexander Stewart.

He and Meg regard each other with surprise for a long moment. She recovers first, turning to the duke. “I see now why you’ve been lacking for civilized companionship.”

“Alexander,” the duke says pleasantly, “we have company.”

“I see that.” 

“Why are you here, Alexander Stewart?” she asks with a candor she doesn’t feel. “Come to take my children away from me again?”

His face darkens. “I didn’t--”

“Perhaps you’d like to wash up,” the duke says loudly, giving his brother a significant look.

Alexander Stewart turns on his heel, leaving the room.

Meg reaches for her glass of wine, trying to steady her trembling hands. This does not go unnoticed by the duke, who leans forward with a kindly look on his face. “You have no reason to fear my brother, Your Grace.”

“He took my children from me,” she says through gritted teeth.

“Only because Angus would have used you to become regent.”

“But he helped Angus, I saw him--”

“There was more that you did not see after you left,” John Stewart says gently. “Angus attempted to rule in your name; my brother led a siege on Holyrood, to extract the boys from Angus’s grip and bring them to Edinburgh Castle. He defended the castle and watched over them personally until I arrived from France. The boys have grown quite fond of him; they call him Uncle Alex.”

Meg cannot believe this; that not only did Alexander Stewart save and protect her boys, but that they have grown so close to him in her absence. It makes her stomach twist, the wine settling unpleasantly. “But...he hates me.”

The duke laughs loudly. “Oh, I assure you, Your Grace, my brother does not hate you. In fact, and don’t repeat this or I’m sure it’ll be the end of me, but I believe he is rather smitten with you.”

Meg gapes at him.  _ “Smitten?” _

“Oh, aye. He took it quite hard when you married Angus.”

She stares at him, uncomprehending. Does he mean to imply Alexander Stewart is  _ jealous _ of Angus, and that’s why he betrayed her? “But...he…”

“I’m sure he’s done an admirable job hiding his feelings, but I assure you, he is quite fond of you. He speaks of you often. A little too often, as a matter of fact.”

Meg doesn’t know how to feel about this. Is this some trick the duke is playing on her? Some way to lower her guard? Play matchmaker between her and his brother and appease her while he rules Scotland? The duke  _ seems _ a kind and honest man, but then, so had Angus. She doesn’t trust herself right now, or anyone else, for that matter. 

She rises on unsteady feet. “I must beg your pardon, Your Grace; it has been a long day, and I fear it is catching up with me.”

He rises too, offering a small bow. “Of course, Your Grace.”

She makes her way up to her room--the duke was kind enough to leave her old apartments empty, which is another reason she trusts him. If he truly meant to steal from her, he would have taken the royal apartments for himself. 

She pauses at the nursery, peering inside. She sees two golden heads resting soundly, eyes shut fast and chests rising and falling. She smiles, closing the door quietly and heading for her room, where she can get some rest and plan her next move in peace.

It is not to be; no sooner has she turned the corner than she nearly collides with Alexander Stewart. 

“Your Grace,” he mumbles, lowering his eyes.

_ He took it quite hard when you married Angus. _

She takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if I should slap you or thank you.”

“Well, between you and me, I’d prefer the thanking.”

She almost smiles, and she hates herself for that. “You stood by and let Angus take my children from me.”

He looks down again. “I did.”

“And then you took my children back from Angus and protected them until your brother came from France.”

“I did,” he says again. 

“Why?”

“Because I made a mistake and I wanted te fix it,” he says simply. 

She takes another deep breath. “I mean, why did you let Angus take my children in the first place?”

“It wasn’t just me,” he tells her gently. “The Privy Council wouldnae let ye have the boys; if I’d said anything, I’d’ve had to flee Edinburgh with ye.”

“But you didn’t  _ want _ to say anything.” She digs her fingernails into her palms, willing her hands not to tremble. “Because you were jealous of Angus.”

A flicker of fear passes over his face, and it’s all the answer she needs.

_ He  _ **_was_ ** _ jealous.  _

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks softly.

He huffs. “Why would I have? James wasn’t just my king, he was my cousin, and you were his widow. And you were the one who told us that you would be regent as long as ye did not marry. If I’d known ye were planning on marrying that fool…” He breaks off, shaking his head. “It doesnae matter now. What’s done is done.”

“And no man can put asunder,” she mutters, remembering her marriage vows. 

He hesitates. “He...lives in Holyrood now. With--”

“Jane Stewart. I know.” The thought makes her weary. What a witless fool she’d married, and what a mess she’d made of things. 

Alexander huffs again. “Your Grace, say the word and I will kill him, I swear it.”

Something stirs inside her at his offer. “If you kill him, all of Clan Douglas will rise up against you.”

He takes a step forward, his voice like soft thunder. “I would face all of them alone for you.”

It’s Meg who grips a fistful of his tartan, pulling him down to her level, but it’s Alexander who kisses her so forcefully she has to wrap her arms around him to stay standing. She has never, not once in her life, been kissed this way. This is not the gentle, dutiful kiss of a man making love to his wife; this is something else entirely, fiery and consuming. That something inside her stirs more insistently, urging her to let Alexander soothe the ache between her legs.

_ I’m married to another man. _

_ Who’s even now with another woman. Angus betrayed me, but Alexander... _

“No,” she says when she pulls back for air, and Alexander’s face falls. “I mean, no, you cannot kill Angus,” she amends quickly. “I would not have you face the wrath of the Douglases because of my stupidity. I will petition for an annulment, and deal with the Douglases civilly.”

“Death is quicker,” he grumbles.

She cannot stop the smile that spreads across her face. “You’d have me widowed twice?”

His beard scratches her cheek, but she finds she doesn’t mind. “I’d make ye mine sooner than later.”

She shivers at the thought of being  _ his. _ “I’ll keep that in mind.” She pulls back to look him in the eye. “Will you help me take back Holyrood? From him and his...mistress?”

He nods. “Aye. I’ll take ye in the morning.” He presses his forehead to hers, and Meg cannot believe that a man she’d hated for so long can be so attractive to her now. “Though I’d sooner take ye tonight.”

She flushes, her heart beating faster. “I’m married,” she whispers. 

“Hmm,” he says. “Yer right.” And he lets go of her, turning to walk down the corridor.

She gapes, righting herself. “Alexander Stewart, you pig!”

He turns around with a grin, scooping her up easily and slinging her over his shoulder. Meg, sufficiently breathless, voices no word of protest.

.

In the morning, Meg kisses her boys goodbye before she rides to Holyrood. The duke has given her two of his own men, but it is Alexander’s presence that truly reassures her. Whatever happens, Alexander will see that Angus leaves Holyrood--whether he leaves dead or alive remains to be seen.

Angus is outside when she reins up, and it amazes her that she once found this face handsome. It looks ugly and sniveling now. Weak. 

“Meg,” he exclaims, eyes wide as dinner plates. “Blessed saints, you’re safe.”

She dismounts, too angry to speak.

“You have returned to me,” he continues, and something in her snaps.

“Returned to you? You betrayed me, ripped my boys from my arms, and stabbed me in the back!” she snarls, storming into the house. 

“No!” Angus protests, tripping after her. “I knew they would kill you when we stepped out of the kitchens, so I formed a plan to save you!”

Meg isn’t listening to him; she’s searching for Jane Stewart, and she finds her in the great hall, in an ill-fitting dress and tousled hair, leaning over James’s daughters Maggie and Janet. 

“Oh, Jane Stewart,” Meg says as pleasantly as she can through gritted teeth, turning on Angus. “What a shock to see you here.”

“Jane’s been helping with James’s  _ other children,” _ Angus tells her, emphasizing  _ other children. _ As if she didn’t know her husband had bastards from before their time together. As if he can make her forget about his very recent infidelity by reminding her of her husband’s by-blows from a time before Meg. 

“And to keep them safe from plague,” he continues, seeing that Meg is not swayed. “We heard that England quivers in its sickbed with this scourge.”

Meg makes no answer, only takes off her gloves. Behind her, Alexander mutters something to the maid, who takes Maggie and Janet by the hands and leads them quickly and quietly from the room before things get ugly.

Well, uglier.

Angus clears his throat, tucking his hair behind his ear. “I, ehm...I wrote an ode for you.”

Meg’s lip curls. Does he truly think a poem will save him now? 

But he goes on, moving closer to her with a hopeful look on his face.

_ “Long were the nights, _

_ Hollow was my heart, _

_ If she returns to me, _

_ Nevermore shall we part.” _

“That was  _ terrible,” _ Alexander comments from behind Meg, who has been watching Angus with a stony face. 

Angus’s eyes flit between Meg and Alexander, clearly uncertain of who he should be more afraid of at the moment. 

The answer, of course, is Meg, who slaps him across the face with her leather gloves. “You think that I don’t know you’re bedding her?!” she shouts, her voice rising up to the rafters as she advances on him, raining down blows with her leather gloves. “You lying, cheating son of a whore!”

“Yer Grace!” one of the duke’s men calls, but Alexander says, “No, let her be.”

“You left me!” Angus defends from where he’s hunched in the corner, arms raised to shield himself. “You went to England! I thought you were never coming back!”

“And your heart broke so much that you had to dip your wick in her?!” She walks away, clenching her fists before she loses her control completely. 

“Hen, please! I love you!” Angus protests, and she lets out a bitter laugh. She’s always hated being called ‘Hen.’  _ If he really loved me, he’d know that. If he’d known me at all, he’d know that. _ “I’m weak for women. I-I admit that. Jane was here, and the bed was cold. She’s nothing more than that to me.”

“You lying sod!” Jane Stewart shouts, looking almost as murderous as Meg. “He’s been bedding me since before the two of you were wed!”

Rage seizes Meg again. Seeking another woman’s company while she was in exile, she may have been able to forgive, but betraying her, taking her sons from her, forcing her to go into exile, and bringing into her house,  _ her bed, _ a woman he’d been bedding since he was courting Meg…

That, she cannot forgive. 

She seizes one of the plates on the table, hurling it at her husband. 

“No!” Angus screams as the porcelain shatters against him. Meg hurls another plate at him, and another, forcing him to retreat. “She’s lying! She’s  _ lying! _ I’ll be worthy of you, Meg! I’ll send her away!” And as if to prove his point, he turns to Jane. “Go! This is my wife!”

Meg points at the door. “Get out of here.”

“That’s right!” Angus says, taking Jane’s arm and dragging her to the door and giving her a small shove. “Just go!”

Jane wrenches free of his grip, casting back one withering look before she leaves. Angus smooths back his hair, watching.

“The  _ pair _ of you,” Meg tells him, chest heaving. “Get out and do not come back.”

“But…” Angus glances at the men, who give him flat stares. He turns back to Meg, eyes wide with fear. “But I’m your husband.”

Meg lets out another bitter laugh. “No, you’re not.” She snatches a knife from the table, pointing it at him until he stumbles out of the hall. “I will find a way to end this marriage,” she promises, backing him all the way out of the house. “You had best pray I end it with divorce and not murder. Now  _ get out!” _

Backed all the way onto the path, Angus makes one last, desperate stab at maintaining his dignity. “We’re not done here. What has been joined before God, no man can put asunder.”

“How fortunate, then, that neither of us is a man,” she says coldly, knife still raised.

Angus looks as if he wants to retort, but wisely does not; instead, he turns, following Jane.

Meg watches him go, wondering what on earth made her love a man like that. Was it grief? Loneliness?

_ Well,  _ she thinks, feeling Alexander stand beside her,  _ I am not alone anymore. _

“Ye alright?” Alexander asks softly.

She breathes deeply. “I will be.” She turns to head inside the house. “First I have to see what sort of mess Angus made of things while I was away.”

.

Thankfully, Angus’s mess is nothing that can’t be fixed. Meg has his and Jane Stewart’s things thrown out and her own things sent to Edinburgh Castle. She decides to send Maggie and Janet, too, so that they can be closer to their half-brothers. Jamie and little Alexander will like that. 

The elder Alexander organizes her household guard, leaving orders not to allow Angus or his mistress back into the house under any circumstances whatsoever. 

The house thus rid of all reminders of Angus and armed should he feel foolish enough as to try his luck, Meg is ready to return to Edinburgh Castle, and more importantly, her boys. She heads outside, the duke’s men following. 

“That everything?” Alexander asks.

She glances back at the house. “I think so.” She bites back a bitter smile. “I hope so. I don’t think I can look at this place again for a while.”

Alexander pats her horse’s neck. “I said it once, I’ll say it again: death is quicker than divorce.”

She tries not to smile. “You can keep on saying it: I’m not going to start a clan war.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be;  _ I’d _ be starting a clan war.”

_ “Alexander.” _

His beard twitches as he grins. “Fine. Ye ready te go home?”

Home. Home to her boys, with Alexander by her side. It’s hard to believe that only yesterday she considered him her enemy; now, here he is. 

“Yes,” she tells him. “I’m ready.”

He helps her up into the saddle before he mounts his own horse, and then they’re setting off for Edinburgh Castle.

For home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE BACK
> 
> I hated 2x06 to an unreal degree. So I decided to continue this. I am very likely going to do at least one more chapter, possibly two, to fix what promise to be disappointing episodes for the Scottish storyline. 
> 
> Thank you Lauren and Alena for encouraging me in my self-indulgent endeavors <3
> 
> Enjoy!

It’s been five years since Meg returned to Scotland, five years since Alexander kissed her and made love to her as no man ever had, five years since he helped her remove Angus from Holyrood and took his place by her side...and he has not left it since.

Even now, he walks beside her as she, Jamie, and Young Alex accompany the Duke of Albany out to his horse.

“The Duke of Albany will be gone for just a few weeks,” Meg tells her boys. “He’s to visit your mean old Uncle Henry and the King of France.”

“Why can’t we come?” Jamie asks. “I’m a king, too.”

“Aye,” says Alexander, ruffling the boy’s long hair, “but they’ll be having drinking and pissing contests the whole time.”

“Alexander!”

“Am I wrong?” he asks, eyebrows raised as he tries to hide a smirk.

She gives his chest a light smack. “You should not speak that way in front of the children.”

“I’ve heard worse,” Jamie says in his most grownup voice.

Meg gives her lover a disparaging look. He’s been like a father to her sons, but in truth, he can sometimes be like a child himself where her boys are concerned. Alexander, as usual, pretends he does not notice the glare that would have cowed a lesser man.

“Are you going to compete in the pissing contest, Uncle John?” Young Alex pipes up. 

“Alex!”

“I’m too old for that, I’m afraid,” the duke chuckles from atop his horse. “But you can be sure I will be outdrinking your uncle and the King of France. I’m sure to out-eat them, too, and I shall be ten times my size when you see me next.”

The boys giggle at the thought.

“You must mind your mother and your Uncle Alex while I am gone,” he continues. “And since your Uncle Alex minds your mother, what I really mean is, you must mind your mother.”

“Piss off, old man,” Alexander tells his brother without any real rancor. 

“Alexander!” She smacks him again, but he catches her wrist, drawing her in for a kiss. Meg, as always, is powerless to resist. 

She often wishes they could be married, and she knows he wishes the same, but that’s impossible as long as Angus is alive. Albany had entreated Angus to honor Meg’s request for an annulment on the grounds of impotence, which was not impossible given how disappointing their wedding night had been, but Angus had understandably refused. He has kept largely to himself, living with Jane Stewart and leaving Meg well enough alone, and that’s all she can really ask for. Though Alexander is not her husband by law, he is a better partner to her than Angus or even James, and even five years later she finds herself loving him more every single day. 

“Ugh, are you going to be like this the whole time?” Jamie complains, shattering the moment. “Uncle John, can we  _ please _ go with you?”

“I’ll be back for you soon,” the duke promises with a smile. “In the meantime, I’m afraid you must endure your mother and Uncle Alex.”

They wave off the duke until he’s out of sight, and then the four of them head inside. 

Meg is looking forward to a few weeks with her boys. Not that she doesn’t spend extended periods of time at Edinburgh Castle, but the boys are always first and foremost under the duke’s care, and they are rarely allowed to stay with her at Holyrood, where she and Alexander sometimes retreat. The Privy Council had agreed that the boys could stay with them at Holyrood while the duke was representing Scotland at the Field of Cloth of Gold, and Meg is excited to have the boys all to herself for a time. 

No sooner has she stepped inside than Meg sees a sickeningly familiar figure in the hall.

“How did you get in here?!” she demands, marching towards her husband. “Get out!”

But Angus is already striding through the house as if he owns the place. “Yer my wife, Meg, so I have a right te be here.”

“The fuck ye do, ye whoreson!” Alexander bellows, making a beeline for the earl. 

Angus has the sense to try and run away, but Alexander barrels into him, pinning him against the wall and knocking over a candelabra. Meg turns to shoo the boys from the room, but her maid, Molly, is already steering them away. Meg turns back to see Alexander’s forearm pressed against Angus’s throat, his other hand holding his dirk to the earl’s unshaved cheek.

“Maybe ye didn’t hear the queen,” he growls. “Get. Out.”

“She’s  _ my _ wife, Stewart,” Angus manages around the forearm pressed against his windpipe. “Not yours. That means this house is mine, and neither of ye has any right te throw me out.”

“I have the right of this knife in my hand. Go on, Crown Prince Mary Jane, get yer fuckin’ sword out!” Alexander shoves the other man roughly to the ground.

Angus fumbles for his own dirk, but no sooner has he unsheathed it than Alexander steps on his arm, using his boot to press down on Angus’s wrist until the bones crack and the other man screams, releasing the dirk. Alexander kneels over him, one hand lifting him by the front of his shirt while the other points his blade at his neck. 

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he growls. “Yer gonna walk away with yer pathetic life. Yer gonna agree to an annulment on the grounds of impotence--oh, aye, I heard about the wedding night. And if you ever come back here, I’m gonna kill ye. Ye ken?”

Angus swallows, his Adam’s apple straining against the knife. “Yes.”

Alexander stands up, releasing him, and Angus crawls back, cradling his broken wrist to his chest. As soon as he’s sure Alexander isn’t going to kill him for true, he stumbles to his feet and flees the house.

“He’ll be back,” Meg murmurs, watching him go. 

“I hope so. Then I get te kill him.” 

“I almost wish you  _ had _ killed him just then.”

“It’s not too late,” Alexander offers hopefully. 

She smiles, reaching up to kiss him. “You’re very chivalrous. Next time, I promise.”

He kisses her again, deeper this time. She knows that he would never let anything happen to her or her children, and if and when Angus does try to come back, it  _ will _ be the end of him. 

Alexander will see to that. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am just saying that if Alexander had been in this episode instead of Hal, he and Meg would have fucked in the treasury.

“Come on at me then, ye wee devil!” Alexander bellows, raising his shield as Jamie whirls his wooden sword. 

Meg and Young Alex watch, shouting their encouragement to Jamie as he advances on his Uncle Alex. He’s doing well, and Meg knows it’s from the hours he spends with Alexander each week. Her lover is backing up, raising his shield to block Jamie’s blows.

“Get yer fuckin’ sword out!” Jamie shouts.

“Alexander Stewart!” Meg exclaims, rising.

“I didn’t say anything” he shouts back, but she can see the blood drain from his face.

“We both know where he heard that!”

Jamie takes advantage of Alexander’s distraction to trot forward, bowling over his Uncle Alex. Alexander falls on the ground, grunting as Jamie hurls himself at him.

“I yield, I yield!” 

Jamie climbs off him, pleased. His smile fades, however, when he sees his mother’s face.

Meg folds her arms over her chest, giving her lover and her son withering looks. 

Alexander leans in over the young king’s shoulder. “Now, that, Jamie, is the look of a foe that will give no quarter.”

“Then what must we do, sire?” Jamie asks.

“We must run!” And man and boy turn on their heels and flee.

“You’re both in for it!” Meg calls after them, shaking her head with a fond smile. Young Alex trips after them, shouting for them to wait up. 

Meg starts to head inside, but the sound of an approaching horse makes her turn around. She smiles when she sees the Duke of Albany. 

“Your Grace,” he greets, kissing her hand and bowing as soon as he’s dismounted. 

“Welcome, my lord. I was just about to sit down for my midday meal, will you join me?”

“First, I think we had better speak in private.” 

They walk down the gravel path, Meg looking anxiously at the duke. “Any word…?”

“There were several dispatches from the Holy Father, Your Grace, but, ah, nothing about an annulment of your marriage.”

Meg huffs. “When will this be at an end?”

Albany hesitates. “It gets worse. We’ve just learned Angus has ridden to London to petition the king for support.”

“By Christ Jesu,” Meg swears. “Is there nothing he will not take from me? And still my brother denies me my inheritance when I need it most!”

Albany shakes his head. “This money from your brother is a phantom, Your Grace. You  _ must _ let it go.”

“No,” Meg snaps. It isn’t the money itself so much as the principle of the thing. It’s  _ her _ money, Henry can afford to pay it, and his refusal to do so is an insult. If only there was some way she could speak to him…

But she can.

“I will go to London and speak to my brother,” she says, already starting back for the house.

“What about that cur, Angus?” 

“If I see him, I will cut his manhood off. ALEXANDER STEWART!”

The man in question appears from behind the hedge, carrying one boy under each arm as though they were no more than sacks of grain.

“Ready horses and provisions. We have a long ride ahead.”

Alexander drops the boys, who roll to the ground with a peal of laughter before chasing each other into the yard. Alexander joins her and Albany, brow furrowed. “Where are we going?”

“To London, to speak with my brother the king.”

Alexander’s eyes flicker towards his own brother. “For what purpose?”

“To demand my inheritance. And because Angus is there, petitioning my brother for support against me.”

Alexander’s face darkens. “It’ll be the last thing he ever does.”

“Alexander,” Albany warns, “do  _ not _ kill the earl.”

Alexander says nothing.

“Alexander…”

“I won’t... _ kill _ him,” he relents at last. “But if he should fall from his horse...or from a tower…”

_ “Alexander.” _

“I love you,” Meg murmurs, rising up to kiss Alexander. He bands his arms around her waist, kissing her hungrily.

“I’ll take the boys to Edinburgh Castle,” Albany mutters, excusing himself from the two lovers.

“We have to go,” Meg murmurs, still not pulling away from her lover.

“London can wait an hour...or three.”

“As badly as I want you right now, my love, there is something I want even more.” She pulls back with a determined look on her face. “To be rid of Angus once and for all.”

.

Meg and Alexander ride with all haste for London, so fast that one of her guards complains they will snap the horses in two. Even with their haste, Meg learns from the porter that Angus has already left, much to her consternation. 

But perhaps it is better this way, for she has a feeling that if she or Alexander sees Angus again, they will be wanted for murder.

Henry is playing some sort of game with Charlie Brandon and their cousin Stafford when Meg enters the courtyard. Catherine watches from the sidelines, looking pale and tired. 

“Wait here,” Meg tells Alexander, leaving him at the entrance to the courtyard. She does not want to introduce him until the time is right.

Charlie detaches from the group, gripping Meg’s hand with a smile. 

“It is good to see you again, Your Grace.”

“And you, Charlie,” she says warmly. “Though I suppose I must call you  _ brother _ now.”

His smile widens. “That is so. I am on my way to walk with Mary; would you like to join us?”

“Thank you, but I must speak to our brother first.”

“He’s in a foul mood,” Charlie whispers, his smile slipping. “You might be better waiting.”

“I have waited long enough,” she says firmly, and moves forward to greet her brother and Catherine. Neither of them, she notices with irritation, so much as look at her.

“My, but you do like long rides, don’t you?” Henry asks. He looks awful, his face haggard beneath that disgusting beard he’s growing. 

“No, in fact, I do not,” she says with a sarcastic smile. “But I ride to claim what is rightfully mine: my inheritance.”

“Go back to your bog-ridden country before I forget you’re my sister,” Henry snarls.

Meg stares at him. Charlie wasn’t lying about his foul mood, but this is harsher than anything Henry’s ever said to her.

“Henry, please,” Catherine begins, “could we at least--”

“You should be inside,” he tells his wife firmly. “The air is too chill for my son.”

So Catherine is pregnant, again, but to Meg’s surprise, she does not argue with Henry. She had ridden into battle with a pregnant belly, but when warned of a chill now, she bows her head in meek submission.

_ What has my brother done to her? _

“Walk with me, Meg,” Catherine murmurs, leading Meg away from Henry and Stafford.

Meg falls into step beside her sister-in-law, knowing Catherine will be more sympathetic than Henry. “It is a daily struggle to hold my country together. I am depleted of resources, and I demand that he honor--”

“You make demands of the King?” Catherine asks sharply, surprising Meg into silence. “No. And as for honor, where is your honor towards God? You defy His Majesty and ask the Pope to annul your marriage while you live in sin with another man.”

Meg cannot believe what she is hearing. “Catherine, you once told me to fix my place in the stars and not be diverted. I come simply to claim what is mine. And I am fixed. What happened to the sister I once knew?”

Catherine only stares blankly back at her.

Meg shakes her head. “So we have nothing more to discuss.”

Catherine winces. “Stay the night, at least. Have dinner with us. Henry’s...mood...may be better by then, and your sister Mary will be eager to see you, I am sure.”

Meg would like to see Mary again; she has not seen her since Mary was a little girl in the nursery. But that’s a small comfort when Catherine and Henry are so cold to her, so unwilling to help her as family should. 

She has an idea. A petty idea, but it makes her smile nonetheless. “May I bring a guest? One of my traveling companions.”

Catherine thinks for a moment, and then nods. “Of course. I will have another place set.”

Meg thanks her before returning to Alexander, who’s been watching the proceedings with a frown.

“I take it they said no?”

“You are correct,” she says with a lightness she does not feel. “How reprehensible do you think you can be in one sitting?” At his confused look, she smiles. “We’re having dinner with the King of England tonight.”

Alexander takes her meaning with a smirk. “Love, he’ll be paying you that inheritance just te make me leave.”

.

Alexander is as good as his word. Dinner is a relatively private affair between Henry, Catherine, Mary, Charlie, Wolsey, Meg, and of course, Alexander. Mary is the only one who doesn’t seem askance at his presence; she met Albany while she was married to King Louis, and warmly asks after him. 

Everyone else looks horrified that Meg would not only bring her lover to a private dinner with the royal family, but that he is, well, Alexander. 

In fact, he has to do very little to upset Henry, Catherine, and Wolsey, who all act as though his mere presence is enough to make them ill. He speaks in incomprehensible Scots, eats with his elbows on the table, slurps his soup, and picks his teeth clean with his knife. Henry and Catherine manage to ignore him, for the most part, choosing instead to focus on Meg.

So she makes it impossible for them to ignore her lover. 

She and Alexander move gradually closer until she’s practically in his lap, feeding each other by hand and nuzzling constantly. Henry, Catherine, and Wolsey look nauseous, Charlie looks as if he would very much like to smile but doesn’t dare, and Mary looks openly delighted at the turn of events. 

“Yer brother looks like he’s about te keel over,” Alexander murmurs while he presses leisurely kisses to Meg’s face. “But that might just be because those chicken legs can’t hold him up.” He takes one of the leg bones from his own discarded chicken, holding it up to compare to Henry.

Meg bursts into giggles, trying to grab Alexander’s wrist before Henry knows they’re making fun of him. Alexander kisses her fully, and she doesn’t have to play up her attraction to him at all, moaning softly as he deepens the kiss.

“Pray excuse me, Your Majesty,” Catherine says loudly, and Meg pulls away to watch her sister-in-law get up. “I find the prince needs rest.”

Henry looks unhappy at being left with the lovers, but as soon as Catherine leaves Mary also stands up. “We have peacocks now,” she announces, looking straight at her sister. “Would you like to see them?”

“It’s nighttime,” Charlie says, confused. “You won’t be able to see them--”

“We can get candles,” Meg says, seeing the look in her sister’s eyes. She takes Alexander’s hand, following Mary out of the dining room and leaving Henry, Charlie, and Wolsey behind.

“That was the  _ best _ dinner I’ve had since I came back to court,” Mary says as soon as the door is closed. She’s already sweeping off down the corridor, and Meg almost has to jog to keep up. “I mean, truly inspired. Our brother looked like  _ he _ was the one with morning sickness.” She links her arm with Meg’s. “Your terrible husband was here the other day, but I suppose you know that already. God, have you seen him lately? He looks even worse than our brother.”

“Mary, slow down, my legs aren’t as long as yours!” 

Mary pulls her sister to the side, glancing around the corridor to make sure the three of them will not be overheard.

“I cannot help you with your annulment,” she says quietly, taking both Meg’s hands in her own. “But I can help you get your inheritance.”

Meg grips her sisters’s hands. “Truly, Mary?”

“You’ll have to leave tonight, though.” Mary glances between the two of them. “Henry won’t be happy when he finds out gold is missing from the treasury.”

Meg gapes. “You want us to  _ steal?!” _

“Well, it’s not stealing if it’s rightfully yours,” Mary says primly. 

Meg glances at Alexander, who looks approving. 

“Ye did come here te get yer inheritance,” he reminds her.

He’s right. Mary’s right. The gold they’d be taking has been owed to Meg for a long time. Henry won’t even miss it, probably.

“Alright,” Meg says at last. “What did you have in mind?”

Mary beams. “Have your men and horses ready, and meet me by the treasury stairs in half an hour.” 

.

Meg and Alexander send for their men, ordering them to have the horses packed and ready to go before they head to the treasury. For a moment, Meg is afraid she’s forgotten the way, but even years later, she knows Westminster like the back of her hand. 

Mary is waiting at the top of the stairs; she holds a finger up to her lips for silence and gestures for Meg and Alexander to stand to the side next to the hedge. Putting a horrified look on her face, she runs down the stairs, shouting, “Help! There’s a  _ beastly _ Scotsman chasing me! He threatened to show me his sporran, whatever that is! Please apprehend him at once!”

An armored guard jogs up the stairs, running off into the night. Mary pokes her head out from the top of the stairs, gesturing for Meg and Alexander to follow her. The treasury is at the bottom of a spiral staircase; Mary opens the door, revealing a tidy room with chests of gold and stacks of parchment. 

“I’ll stand guard outside,” she tells them. “And Meg, if I were you, I’d collect interest on that inheritance. Just saying.” She closes the door behind her.

“I like her,” Alexander decides.

“So do I. Hand me one of those.”

They fill the velvet purses with as much gold as they can cram in them.

“Is this what a border raid feels like?” 

Alexander laughs. “This is nothing. Border raids are dangerous, woman.”

“Oh, and stealing from the King of England himself isn’t dangerous?”

Alexander gives her a fond look. “I think you might be the only person in the world who stands up te him. Yer not afraid of anyone.”

She smiles up at him, giddy with excitement and more in love with him than ever.

In a flash, they’re kissing hungrily, the gold lying abandoned at their feet. Alexander backs her into the nearest table, lifting her to sit atop it as they fumble with each other’s clothing. 

“God, I want you,” Meg breathes, yanking Alexander closer. And then he’s inside her and everything else falls away--Henry, Catherine, Angus, the inheritance she has to steal. For just a moment, it’s just her and Alexander and nothing else. 

.

“Took you long enough,” Mary says with a raised eyebrow when they finally open the door. 

Meg, breathless and with her hair slightly out of place, lifts her chin and says, “There was a lot...of gold.”

“Mm-hmm. Come on, before the guard comes back and finds the Scotsman.” 

They head to the outer bailey, where Meg and Alexander’s men are waiting for them. 

“Honestly, Henry probably won’t even notice it’s gone,” Mary tells her sister. “Prick.”

Meg grins. “It was good to see you again, Mary.” Her smile fades a little. “I just wish I’d gotten to spend more time with you.”

Mary’s face is full of emotion. “I do too.” She hugs her sister tightly. “Maybe we’ll see each other again soon.”

“I hope so.” Meg squeezes back. “You should come visit me in Scotland.”

“I’d like that.” Mary pulls back with a sad smile. “You should go. Just in case I overestimated my abilities.”

Meg hugs her one last time before Alexander helps her onto her horse.

“It was lovely to meet you, Lord Stewart,” Mary says. “Tell your brother I said hello.”

“I will.”

Meg leans down to take Mary’s hand one last time. “Thank you, Mary.”

Mary smiles up at her. “What are sisters for?”

Meg smiles back, straightening up and spurring her horse forward. Their party sets off out the gate, heading north.

“So what’re you gonna do with all that gold?” Alexander asks as soon as they’ve cleared the city. 

Meg smiles at him. “My brother is right. I shouldn’t look to the Pope for an annulment. I swore to take Angus as my husband until death do us part. And death will part us--his death from cannons if he so much as approaches me again.”

“Christ, woman, I’ll have ye again right here and now if you keep talking that way.”

Meg laughs and urges her horse to go faster. Catherine, the old Catherine, once told her to fix her place in the stars and not be diverted. 

Meg will not be diverted, by Henry, or Catherine, or even her lackwit of a husband. Her course is fixed. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are - the end! This chapter is very silly and self-indulgent, but I did promise a friend a certain scene involving cannons, so here we are.
> 
> Thank you itslaurenmae as always for being my collaborator, and thank you to whoever's reading this for, well, reading this. Fixing these trashtastic episodes has been a delight.

_ Three Years Later _

Meg receives a letter from the Duke of Albany and another from Rome at the same time. She opens the letter from Albany first, and is glad she did, for he writes to her with good news.

_ Pope Clement has kindly granted your annulment from the Earl of Angus, the documentation of which I have sent along with this letter. I have sent a separate document to your former husband, with an order to leave you, your lands, and your wealth alone.  _

Meg can hardly believe it. After so long trying to free herself from Angus, years spent ignoring his existence and trying to be content with the life she has carved out for herself, at last he is gone. She is a free woman.

Hitching her skirts, she hies out to the yard where Jamie is training with Alexander. Jamie’s training has become more intense as he’s gotten older, and even from a distance she can hear her son grunting and wheezing as he is pushed to his limits. Young Alex watches from his bench, gripping his practice sword eagerly.

“That’s it, that’s better!” Alexander shouts, his own voice rough from their exertions. “Come on, block me! Find my weak spot!” He advances on Jamie, who puts up a terrific fight; the spar ends with their blades pointed at each other’s necks, man and boy grinning at one another.

“Alexander!” she calls.

He tousles Jamie’s hair and pats him on the back as the boy staggers off to sit with his brother. “What is it?” he asks, seeing Meg’s excitement.

She holds up the letter from Rome. “It is my annulment from Angus. The Pope has granted it at last!”

Alexander stares at her. “You’re sure?”

“Read it yourself,” she laughs, handing it to him. “Your brother even wrote to say he has had a copy sent to Angus, so there can be no doubt.”

Alexander reads the letter, and then looks up at Meg with elation. He reaches for her, kissing her so fiercely that she is momentarily lifted from the ground.

“Marry me,” he says as soon as he’s set her down. 

She grins up at him. “Yes.”

“Now.”

She laughs. “Now?”

“Now.” He presses his forehead to hers. “I’ve been waiting almost ten years te make ye my wife, Meg, and I cannae wait another minute.”

She considers him. Why not? This isn’t the same thing as marrying Angus, a headlong rush into the unknown with no thought or care of the consequences. She and Alexander have lived as husband and wife for almost ten years; the Privy Council, the nobles of Scotland, everyone knows. All that will change is that their union will now be recognized by the law. 

“Boys,” she calls, turning to look at her sons.

They dutifully approach her. “Yes, Lady Mother?”

“How would you feel about a wedding here tonight?”

The boys glance at one another.

“Tonight? Well...I suppose,” Jamie says slowly. “Whose wedding?”

“Mine and your Uncle Alex’s.” She smiles, pushing his long blond hair behind his ear. “The Pope has annulled my marriage to Angus.”

Young Alex looks as if he doesn’t dare believe it. “So you...you can get married?”

“We can.”

“Tonight?!”

“Yes, tonight,” Meg laughs. 

Her boys hurl themselves at their mother and soon-to-be-stepfather, all four of them laughing. 

“Does this mean you can give me a little brother now?” Young Alex asks.

Meg flushes. “Maybe.”

“We’ll have te try very hard, but I think we can do it,” Alexander says seriously.

Meg punches his arm, but as he kisses her, grinning, she can’t help thinking it would be nice to have another child. A little boy with blue eyes and a mop of black hair. Yes, that would make her very happy.

.

Meg and Alexander wed that very night at Holyrood, their only witnesses Jamie and Young Alex. It is a small ceremony with no pomp and circumstance; they share a bottle of wine with the bishop when the ceremony is concluded, and after seeing him out the door and sending the boys to bed, Meg and Alexander retire to the room where they’ve slept side by side almost every night for the last decade. This time, however, they will sleep side by side as husband and wife.

“So,” Alexander asks breathlessly as soon as they have finished making love, “how does this compare to yer last wedding night?”

Meg laughs, trying to catch her own breath. “You know perfectly well how it compares.”

“Aye, but I want te hear it from you.”

She grins, pushing the hair from his forehead. “It was...exquisite.”

“Aye, exquisite,” he repeats, looking pleased. “That’s a big word.”

“And deserved.”

He kisses her, settling beside her. “What else?”

She grins again. “Divine.”

“Oh, divine?”

“Majestic. Awe-inspiring.” She traces his cheek, her smile mellowing. “Perfect.”

“Well, it cannae get better than that.” 

“No,” she hums in agreement. “Then again…”

“Oh?”

“Well, we  _ did _ promise Alex a little brother, and you  _ did _ say we would try very hard…”

“I’m a man of my word,” he says with mock-solemnity. “And you are insatiable.”

“You love that about me.”

“Never said I didn’t.”

She smiles. “Come here, husband.”

“Aye,” he murmurs, moving over her. “I like the sound of that.”

.

They have been married for almost a month when a rider comes galloping up to Holyrood.

“The Earl of Angus is insisting the annulment is not lawful,” he tells Meg breathlessly. “He’s coming to Edinburgh to contest it.”

“He can contest it all he likes,” Meg scoffs. “The Holy Father himself has annulled the marriage, and I have taken another husband.”

“Yes, my queen, but he will not hear it.”

“Then I must send him a message loud enough for even his thick head to hear.”

.

Meg and Alexander watch as Angus and his men climb over the western wall. 

“Is he trying to storm the castle with ten men?” she asks in disbelief.

Alexander opens the window. “OI! ANGUS!”

Her former husband slips on the slope, looking up in surprise, and it occurs to Meg that he didn’t think anyone would see him. “WHAT?”

“FUCK OFF.”

Angus rises with as much dignity as he can muster, pointing an accusatory finger at Alexander. “MEG IS MY WIFE!”

“SHE’S MINE NOW, YE WEE SHITEY MAN.”

“Angus,” Meg calls, leaning out the window, “if you do not leave  _ this instant, _ I am going to fire cannons on you. Do you understand?”

Angus jabs his finger at her now. “WHAT GOD HAS JOINED TOGETHER, NO MAN CAN PUT ASUNDER.”

“I rather think the Pope has the authority,” she calls down. “This is your last warning, Angus.”

Angus looks resolute. “YOU’RE MY WIFE, MEG.”

Meg huffs, turning to her men. “Fire the cannons.”

The first cannon goes off, sending Angus’s men scrambling. Angus screams at them until they reform, shields raised as they reluctantly scale the hill. She and Alexander order the cannons to fire until Angus’s men, quickly seeing the futility in their endeavor, abandon him to save their own skins, leaving Angus stranded on the hillside. 

“HAVE YE HAD ENOUGH?” Alexander bellows out the window. “WE GOT PLENTY MORE WHERE THOSE CAME FROM.”

Angus glares.

“Angus,” Meg calls from the window, “swear you will never come near me or my property again. Swear it and I will let you leave with your miserable life.”

He purses his lips, glaring up at her...but finally he gives her a short, tight nod. “I swear it.”

Meg nods, and he turns, making his ungainly way down the slope. As soon as he’s gone, Meg dismisses everyone save her husband.

“I still think,” he tells Meg, “ye give him too many chances.”

“Probably,” she admits. “But as satisfying as it would be to kill him, I think it’s infinitely more satisfying to know that he’ll have to live out the rest of his miserable life knowing what a failure he is.”

“Well, when ye put it like that…”

She reaches up to kiss her husband. “I don’t want to talk about Angus anymore.”

“Good, because there’s something I’d rather do.” Alexander lifts her onto a cannon, kissing her. 

“Here?”

“Here.”

Meg smiles and kisses her husband. 

Her place is fixed, both in the stars and here on earth. 


End file.
